Home Ec: The Dress ... reclaiming the pieces
Digital storytelling: first the story script
(I am taking a digital storytelling class and this is the script for my first story. It began as a “simple, fleeting memory” from junior high school and morphed into a question that I would love to have you respond to. When all the pieces come together, I’ll post the final version.)
Script:
Ninth grade; my first year in town school. I looked forward to new friends, new classes, new freedom. However, the ninth grade was also the last year of junior high so town students had already filled activity slots and formed friend groups.
The memory of that time shimmered like a rainbow soap bubble filled with firsts ... first town school year ... first all girls class ... home ec for girls, shop for boys ... first love affair with a color ... chartreuse ... first major creative project ... a dress, one that we would make for ourselves and wear for the entire school to see.
For me, this was an easy project, years of 4H had taught me to sew. In spite of the wasp-waisted, teacher-chosen pattern, I was excited to buy my own material, make my own dress, make friends with the other girls.
The material thrilled me ... chartreuse, of course ... and roses ... yards of roses. I leaped into the project and was soon far ahead of my new classmates. They began to ask me questions ... could I help them adjust this pattern, pin that seam, unclog the bobbin? I was excited to help this gathering of possible new friends. Spending time talking and helping others became much more fun than working on my own dress.
Slowly, however, as I helped my classmates, something began to niggle at me. I started to notice something I hadn't seen before. The beautiful chartreuse material I had chosen was not like theirs … brighter … maybe even gaudy. As the pieces of my dress started coming together, it began to look like a neon green whale in the midst of a blue sea … or a pile of vomit. Plus, I was never going to look wasp-waisted or even pretty wearing it.
Home ec became torture. No one really had time to be friends and I had lost so much time on the dress I now hated that I botched it at every turn and cringed at the thought of wearing it. Our grade depended on finishing and wearing it; so, I did, but I was mortified every moment and destroyed it as soon as I got home.
As I replayed this memory, I wondered if it was more than just an embarrassing moment, if maybe it had been an inflection point where I lost confidence in my sense of self. I immediately started wearing neutral colors and never sewed again. On an even deeper level though, I started trying to blend in and avoid being noticed. I started writing but refused to share it. I wanted to be part of high school drama but only on the backstage crew. How many other opportunities did I avoid because of that confidence that went underground because of that one failed dress?
And, color? I was in my late forties before I embraced color again and in my 60s before I allowed myself to make art.
Now I celebrate color ... all color ... and, especially chartreuse, although I now call it lime-green. And, my favorite photography/art subjects are flowers, not chartreuse roses though.
QUESTION: I also wonder how many of us carry memories of moments from our youth that derailed some piece of ourselves that we could now reclaim?
Thank you for this prompt. I've been considering it ever since. I have an experience that stands out. When I was a Sophomore in high school, I took a drama class. We had to work in groups, creating a scene that we would act out on the stage as our final. I had one of the first lines, as well as the last line of the scene. That last line would signal the backstage crew to lower the curtains. I was so nervous that I said my first line, followed by my second line, and the curtain descended without my classmates being able to recite their lines. We received a courtesy D on the final. My friends were not happy with me. For oh so many years I would cringe at the thought of being center stage in any setting. All those years when people were enjoying their "new" video cameras, I ran the other direction. In recent years, since writing my book, I have finally set myself free. I can now be center stage, at a book reading, or most any social gathering, not needing the limelight, but not running from it either.
Oh, and I loved loved loved home ec. My age group was just before the women's movement, so I found no fault with learning to sew. Actually, I had begun my love affair with the sewing machine even before that 6th grade class. And the love continues to this day.
Thank you, Joyce, for encouraging these memories.
Dearest Joyce, this is exactly what we explore in my The ReWrite Journey Course - the childhood events that impacted us and resulted in our creating limiting beliefs about ourselves, abilities, possibilities, etc. Rewriting them to uncover their gifts is how we unravel the limiting belief -- or, as you say, reclaiming the pieces.
Funny you should bring up sewing and HomeEc Class -- I remember asking to take wood-working instead. That was boy's work - No girls allowed -- then again, no boys were allowed in HomeEc class either. And we wonder where sexism begins?
I remember thinking why can't I and even though I fought to take it, my parents didn't support me -- it wasn't ladylike. So, I succumbed to societal norms while I silently railed against the inequity of it all.
When it came to sewing, I remember red jean fabric that I was making a suit from - jacket and bermuda shorts. Everything was going swimmingly until I realized I'd cut out two right panels for the front of the jacket - and didn't have enough fabric to cut out the left panel. I decided to get creative and use blue jean fabric for the left side. Though I passed the assignment (just barely) I never did wear that suit.
The gift -- it was the beginning of my feminist march. - not one that measured my worth by being equal to men, but rather, one that recognized my worth is non-negotiable, just as yours is, and theirs and theirs. I have since built things out of wood, sewn my daughters' halloween costumes (sewing is not one of my passions) :) and of course, cooked. A lot -- including running a small cooking school with a girlfriend and in my late 30s, hosting a cooking show on our then local cable TV station.
I did none of those things because I saw them as 'women or men's' work -- I did them, and continue to do them because they are my passions and, they give breath to my creativity.
Thanks for the beautiful prompt and story -- I've taken a long hiatus from online posting and so enjoy your posts when I do pop in!
BTW -- we're selling our house and moving to Gabriola Island this fall -- hmmmm...... do I hear a gathering in our future?